“No, Katie, you don’t get it, he was a weirdo. If he hadn’t opened his mouth, maybe it would be different.”

“So, he was smokin’ hot—old, but hot. And semi challenged? Is that what I’m getting? You move to Tampa for the summer to find yourself and meet a man and that’s what you come up with?”

I laugh at her breakdown. “He’s not challenged. He was just...interesting, I guess. He kept mumbling numbers. Like calculating everything he was saying. It was strange. But then again, he had this authority to him. This aura that screamed power. Control. It didn’t make sense.”

“Well, did you even ask how old he was? Age is just a number nowadays, girl.”

Ugh, she’s kinda right. Jimmy, my ex, cheated on me, left me with a pile of debt, and tons of trust issues, and he was only a year older than me.

“Did he seem into you?”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s the one trying to push up the closing date on Gran’s place. Not gonna happen. The last time we spoke, she made me promise I would come out here to find myself, so that’s what I’m going to do,” I say with more confidence than I feel. I hope I figure my shit out in two months. August first will be here before I know it, and I have a lot of shit to figure out.

Katie bursts out laughing through the phone. “What happens if the summer ends and you’re still lost?”

“I’ll go to the closing, sell the house they’ll no doubt bulldoze, and come home.” The ache already settles in my chest at the thought of letting Gran down. My parents died when I was in high school. My Gran raised me. I was heartbroken when she moved to their summer home in Florida, once shared with my Grandad before he passed, to spend out her retirement. Gran had begged me to come with her, but I was head over heels for Jimmy and the best I could do was manage an occasional phone call here and there. Pathetic.

When she fell ill, I told her I’d drop everything to take care of her. I owed it to her. But she lied and masked how sick she really was. But when I got the call, I knew. I got to spend a few days with Gran before she left me too. In that time, she lectured me about all the wrong decisions I’d made in my life. She had valid points. I was a walking hot mess. I was broke, heartbroken, and jobless, since I quit to spend the summer in Florida at their home—the home my grandparents owned way before Tampa became a hotspot for vacationers. I knew the closing didn’t take place until the end of the summer, so I promised Gran before she died I would take some time for myself. And here I was.

“Damn. I hope that doesn’t happen, since you picked up your entire life here in Minnesota to spend it on the beach. Do you even own a bathing suit?”

I laugh. I didn’t as of two weeks ago when I officially made the decision to come to Tampa. Water has never been my thing, hence the hesitation when I learned Gran’s house overlooked the ocean. “I doubt I’ll spend too much time in the water. More like on the back deck reading my romance novels and sipping on some spritzers. Hey, maybe I’ll even look for a part time job.”

Katie gags before I even finish my sentence. “You did not go there to work. Relax. Read your smut. Get laid by a random—possibly your sexy, weird neighbor. But I’m pretty sure your gran didn’t mean find work when finding yourself.” True. But with my horrible track record, even searching for a man to get laid sounds like work.

I end up letting my friend go. The weather today is clear; not a cloud in the sky. I have high hopes of knocking out a whole book while catching some sun on the back deck. I’ve spent most of the week going through Gran’s boxes of old photo albums, piecing together her life. There’s no denying I shed a few tears at how happy my grandparents were and seeing old pics of my parents when they were young. I wish Gran were here to tell me stories behind some of the photos.

Being Sunday, I decide to take a break from memory lane. I snatch a worn historical romance paperback from Gran’s bookshelf and slide into my brand new white bikini. Grabbing my towel and a Mike’s Hard Lemonade from the fridge, I head out back.

The sun feels amazing on my skin. I inhale the breeze, tasting the salt of the ocean on my tongue. I drop my towel on the lawn chair and get comfortable. My shades are down, and my book is ready to be dominated.

“This is nice,” I hum to myself, lifting my lemonade and taking a nice sip.

And out it all repels as I spit and choke on it.

“Jeeeesus Christ.”

I knock my sunglasses halfway down my nose as my eyes threaten to fall out of their sockets. Where in holy heavens did he come from? The half-naked man leaning on his balcony across the way. My tongue about falls out of my mouth. Is that Numbers? And holy shit, when did he get so much muscle? I’d call him fit, but that’s not fit. That’s like, “Hi, I eat muscle for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and now I’m just all muscle.”

I wipe at my chin, unsure whether it’s lemonade splatter or I'm drooling. I’m probably drooling. I wasn’t paying attention to much of him yesterday when he was acting all crazy on my front step. I just wanted him gone. To be honest, while he was babbling, I was trying to dig in the back of my brain for my old high school karate moves in case he tried something on me. Looking at him now, I wish he had.

He lifts his hand, threading his large hand through his hair and dragging his fingers down his hard chest covered in a dusting of hair. “Oh boy, where’s that hand going?” I mumble, licking my lips. Oh yeah. I see where this is going. Yep, oh yeah... Did I just moan?

Oh, hell yeah I did, but it’s so worth it. His hand dips down into his board shorts and he adjusts himself. Feel free to pull them down. Show us the goods, I think, mentally visualizing just how big his junk is. He’s a pretty big guy. Big hands. Theory says, and all.

Watching him fondle himself in all his hot glory, my curiosity piques. How old is he really? He sure had a reason to take offense by my calling him old. He certainly doesn’t look old. He surely looks a zillion times hotter than Jimmy, and he was only twenty-eight. I’m not an age wizard, but if I had to guess, I’d say late thirties, early forties. Definitely a bit out of my age range. Why? No idea. No real reason screaming stay away. Well, besides the major one being he wants to evict me, tear down my Gran’s life of memories, and probably build a gym in its place.

Yeah, that’s a good enough reason.

It also reminds me it’s the guys who look appealing on the outside that usually turn out to be dicks on the inside.

His hand is still in his pants, and I can’t imagine he’s so large, it’s taking him that long to adjust. Is he…he…masturbating! I lean forward, hoping a few more inches will give me a better prognosis. There’s a peg in the way, so I twist to the side for a better view. His hand is still working. Oh, it stopped. It’s pulling out. My eyes follow, until his hand is up his chest, rubbing at his—

“Oh shit!”

His eyes meet mine, and I jolt, dropping my lemonade, startling myself again when the bottle smacks against the deck and shatters. Shit. Did he just witness me gawking at him? I’m trapped, unable to pull away. He’s sucking me in. Pull away! Abort!

The thing is, I can’t. Dammit is he hot. He also looks mad. Probably so, since I kind of pulled a peeping tom on a personal moment.

“See something you like?” he calls over, confirming I’m busted.

“You two should get a room,” I yell back, since there’s no point in denying the fact that I had been watching, and I had been enjoying. I lean back in my chair, acting unfazed, even though my heartrate has picked up and a little tornado in my lower belly has my core on edge.

He breaks into a smile, but it's not an easygoing, friendly smile. It’s…predatory.

Jeeeesus.

Go back inside, Lucy. Stay clear.

“We’re looking for a third if you want to come over and assist,” he yells, causing the heat to spike. Man, Florida weather is ridiculous. I fan myself, blaming the ball of fire in the sky while picturing myself helping him out. I’m sure he’s not thinking I’m as sexy right now with the look on my face. It’s a face that’s trying to determine if my small hand would even fit around his large package.

“What do you say? He’s looking for a new friend.”

I’m about to suggest a playdate, because he’s got me super horny and clearly fogged in the brain, when two women in bikinis walk out.

What the fuck?

They take a place on either side of him, then snuggle closer, wrapping their arms around his waist. The one on my side leans in, laughing and whispering something in his ear.

You have got to be kidding me! What a prick! He pulls his eyes away from mine to reply to whatever the tramp said. What am I doing? Was I seriously just about to get played? Wow. Good to know my neighbor is a huge douchebag. I sit up quickly, grab my book, and stand. Avoiding the broken glass, I lift my eyes to the neighbor who’s staring back, flip him off, then storm inside, forfeiting the sun, and sadly, the playdate.